Special Potion
by ChangingTheWorld
Summary: Sherlock and John take one of Sherlock's experiments, and it makes them kids again.
Sherlock gazed out the window of 221B. He couldn't see a thing. "It's so peaceful out there, quiet and calming… It's sickening." He turned and tied his bathrobe around him, stepping forward and on to the coffee table. John looked up, quite irritated, and ruffled his newspaper again.

"Where exactly are you going?" John set the newspaper down and picked up his coffee. Sherlock looked up in disgust. "John, I am simply going to the kitchen. You worry too much." John picked up his newspaper again. "I wonder sometimes…"

Sherlock had been known more than once to ruin the flat while in the kitchen. His experiments usually ended very badly, and if not they were disgusting. He didn't want to be around the kitchen when Sherlock was doing… _that._ John decided that it would be best if he left; Sherlock didn't like any noise, and John didn't like concentrating Sherlock.

"I'm going out, we need more milk," John said as he opened the fridge. He walked towards the door and slipped on a coat. "Go ahead, you do that." Sherlock muttered, carefully dripping water down into a container. John raised an eyebrow, but did nothing despite his suspicion.

John slammed the door as he left. The flat was quiet.

Sherlock added the final ingredient to his test; a test to see if there was a mixture that could make someone shrink. It was not useful and highly unlikely, but if it worked it would be so much fun to play with Lestrade. Sherlock chuckled.

He wouldn't drink it himself, instead he would put it in John's tea. He knew it was a bad idea if John found out. He never did get over that time in Baskerville… He wondered if it tasted of anything. But, of course, Sherlock was hesitant to try it, as he didn't know if the effects would take place immediately or later.

Reluctantly, he sniffed, and took the smallest sip. He twitched. Nothing happened, and he realized it tasted like water. He warmed the kettle, then put the mixture in it. He laughed, and it wasn't exactly a warm, welcoming one.

The door screeched open, and Sherlock changed his laugh into a cough and cleared his throat. "Hello, John," Sherlock said, stepping out of the kitchen. John raised an eyebrow. Sherlock didn't usually welcome him home, even if he was doing nothing. "I kept your kettle warm for you," Sherlock smiled an awkward, crooked smile. He hadn't done so in a while. As polite as Sherlock was, John was suspicious. His politeness caused that.

"Right… I'm going to make some more tea and don't bother me the rest of the evening; Doctor Who is on." John unloaded the bag and began to make his tea. He put away the milk, and Sherlock watched intently, quivering with excitement and waiting till John finally drank the tea.

John sat down with his cup and turned on the Telly, switching over to his preferred channel.

As John continued drinking, nothing happened. "Are you ever going to do something besides watch Telly?" Sherlock groaned and changed positions in his chair again. "Your show is completely impossible and quite honestly mind numbing. The laws of atomic displacement do not allow for a blue box to be larger on the inside. Completely impossible." John groaned from Sherlock's ceaseless torture. "How do you explain black holes then?" John said quietly, not moving. "I don't concern myself with that junk; it isn't important. Clouds what is." Sherlock scoffed. John just groaned. "If you don't enjoy the show, you could just leave! Either way, just _shut up!_ "

Eventually, Sherlock did get bored from being silent and went into his room, and sat down at the computer.

Only hours later did he remember his experiment, but had lost all memory of drinking it himself. His eyes opened wide and he slammed down his computer screen and thrust himself out his door. "John!" Sherlock fell down the few steps. John whizzed around and saw Sherlock crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. "Sherlock!" John bolted upright and ran to help his friend. "Oh Sherlock, what did you do!" John helped Sherlock to his chair. "It's not that bad," Sherlock said, looking down at him as his head pointed up, trying to keep his nose from bleeding. "Well, yes, but we can't risk it getting worse." John gave Sherlock some tissues and water, and sat on a stool beside him.

"I miscalculated, those steps are much larger," Sherlock looked around to the steps, his nose beginning to stop bleeding. "Yeah," John tried to focus on the steps, drifting away. "Speaking of, everything is larger." Sherlock commented, his head drifting from this place to that.

John looked at the ground, then his eyes widened and his brows furrowed. "Heh, yeah." John smiled. Then he realized. It was quite obvious who was behind this."Sherlock," he said in a rough, low voice. "What did you do." John had a murderous glint in his eyes as he looked into Sherlock's, and his face was shadowed. Sherlock looked to his side guiltily. John flipped his hands around and fell on to his back and off the stool. He closed his eyes, and in a dry voice said, "It was the tea. It was the damn tea wasn't it!" Sherlock looked down at his feet.

John pressed his hands against his face and sighed. As he removed his hands, he saw they weren't wrinkled from age. He paused. He furrowed his brows in confusion.

Slowly, he got off the ground, passing Sherlock as he sat in his Mind Palace. He went to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror with his eyes closed. Slowly, he opened his clenched eyes. He saw something that surprised him. He saw the wall. The mirror was high above him. He groaned. Slowly, he crawled on to the sink and saw something that he wasn't expecting.

He wasn't shorter. At least, it wasn't just that. He was a child. A young version of himself. "Sherlock!" John slammed the door open, his face bursting with rage. "What the bloody hell did you do to me?!"Sherlock cringed back in fear, reluctant to answer. Even as a 12 year old, John was at the very least frightening. "Sherlock," John said, breathing heavily. "Why?"

"It's an experiment," Sherlock replied quietly. "I aged too." John flipped his hands in the air and they landed with a slap by his side. "It's always. Always, always for an _experiment._ Of course," John rubbed his head. Sherlock looked down at his clothes and saw that he had outgrown them. "At least our voices are the same." Sherlock commented, trying to roll up his sleeves but failing miserably. "Sure, that's going to be normal, just two young kids and one speaks with the _voice_ of _Smaug_ and he is the seven year old!" John's voice quivered in worry.

"John, relax, the effects will wear off in… I don't know, about a week," Sherlock smiled, thinking that was good. "A week!" John shouted. "A whole week, what if we get a case!" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "That's not going to happen in the course this month has been taking."

"Could you two lower it down a bit? It's getting awful loud." Mrs. Hudson knocked twice, and lightly on the door. John and Sherlock stared at the door, hoping she wouldn't come in, but Sherlock still knew she would. "What's all the fuss about anyway?" And then, Mrs. Hudson opened the door, and screamed.


End file.
